Apple Turnover Murder (Hannah Swensen, #13)(6)

Hannah turned to glance at the clock. It was four thirty-five. Who would call her this early? Visions of crippling auto accidents, life-threatening medical emergencies, and violent crimes befalling friends and family filled her mind with dread as she rushed over to answer it.

“Hello?” Hannah answered, hoping it was a wrong number. Anything else was likely to announce a disaster.

“Good morning, Hannah.”

“Norman?” Hannah could scarcely believe her ears as she recognized the cheery voice. It was Norman, calling her on his cell phone, and he sounded alert and wide awake. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, but I woke up too early. I couldn’t sleep without Cuddles.”

And I couldn’t sleep WITH Cuddles, Hannah thought, but of course she didn’t say it.

“So how did she sleep?” Norman continued.

“Cuddles slept just fine. So did Moishe,” Hannah replied, deciding not to tell him about her rude awakening with both cats plastered to her head.

“Good. Well … I’d better let you go then. I know you’re probably just getting ready for work.”

Hannah gave a little smile. “Actually, I’m baking. I’m testing a new recipe a friend sent me for Vanilla Crack.”

“Is that a cookie?”

“Not really. I guess you could say it’s a cross between a cookie and a candy.”

“Sounds interesting. Will you save one for me when I come to pick up Cuddles on Wednesday night?”

“Of course I will.”

“Okay then. I’d better try to catch a little more sleep. I’m meeting the old gang to take a tour of the clinic this afternoon, and then we’re all going out for dinner.”

“Have fun.”

“I will. It’s been three years since I’ve seen these guys. We’ll probably spend most of the night playing catch-up.”

Hannah said goodbye and hung up the phone feeling envious. Norman was going back to bed. She wished she could go back to sleep and get up much, much later.

It didn’t take long to boil the butter and sugar the required amount of time. Hannah had just added the vanilla and poured it over the bed of soda crackers she’d arranged on a cookie sheet when her phone rang again.

It only took a moment to sprinkle on a few pieces of salted nuts, slip the pan into the preheated oven, and set the timer. Hannah managed to answer the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hannah!” It was Andrea’s voice and she sounded anxious. “I’m sorry to call so early, but I knew you’d be up and I really need to talk to you. It’s about … oh drat! Bill’s out of the shower and I can’t talk now. I’m showing two houses this morning, but I’ll come in this afternoon, okay?”

“Fine, but …” Hannah stopped talking when she realized that her sister had hung up. She stood there staring at the receiver for a moment and then she returned it to the cradle. Andrea was usually a late riser. What had happened to get her up before dawn? Or had she been sleepless all night, worrying about something?”

The timer dinged and Hannah removed the pan of Vanilla Crack from the oven. It smelled marvelous. She removed the pieces from the cookie sheet on a wire rack to harden and gave a little smile of satisfaction.

“What smells so heavenly?”

Hannah whirled around to see her youngest sister standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing a red and black checkered nightshirt and pink bunny slippers.

“It’s a new cookie called Vanilla Crack.”

“Vanilla Crack?” Michelle’s eyebrows approached the edge of her honey-brown bangs. “Do you know what crack is?”

“Of course I know what crack is.”

“But you’re still going to call this cookie Vanilla Crack?”

“Yes, I am. There’s no way I’m going to let a slang term invented by a scroungy dope dealer spoil my friend’s cookie name. They’re called Vanilla Crack, and Chocolate Crack, because the syrup is poured on crackers. And anybody who objects to the use of a perfectly good English word because illiterate criminals use it is an idiot!”

Michelle backed up a step and held up her hands, palms facing Hannah. “Okay. Forget I mentioned it. You’re absolutely right. I just didn’t know if you knew that it might have negative connotations. It smells divine, though. I think I’ll try a piece for breakfast, if that’s all right with you.”

“For breakfast?!” Hannah heard her own words, more than a little censorious, echoing back to her. It wasn’t that long ago she’d been a college student like Michelle, and she’d eaten cold pizza for breakfast. On the scale of nutritional correctness, was a piece of Vanilla Crack that much lower than a piece of cold pepperoni pizza?

“Hannah? Can I try a piece of Vanilla Crack for breakfast?”

“It’s may I. And yes, you may. Let me know how you like it while I start on the Chocolate Crack. And be careful. It hasn’t had long to cool and it could be too hot to eat.”

Michelle reached out to touch the confection on the cooling racks while Hannah arranged graham crackers on another cookie sheet. Then she put butter and brown sugar into her saucepan and brought it to a boil. She boiled it for the required five minutes, poured it over the graham crackers on the cookie sheet, and slipped the sheet in the oven. She’d just measured out the chocolate chips she’d need once it finished baking when she noticed that there was a large empty space on the cooling rack. “You’ve already eaten a quarter of a pan?” she asked Michelle.